Second Chances
by Ralph E. Silvering
Summary: It has been two years since Elizabeth and Hayley's deaths and Michael is just going through the motions, until a chance encounter has the potential to change his life forever.


Second Chances

A Mikita Fanfic

The dull monotony of life in Division had been what saved Michael's sanity after Elizabeth and Hayley's deaths. It had hurt to breathe, to even just exist after they were gone and Percy's offer of revenge hadn't been able to still Michael's utter longing to join them in whatever afterlife they had been granted.

But planning and executing mission after mission – that Michael could do. And it stopped him from thinking about … other things, for a while. But it was when he went home at night that he couldn't stand it.

Michael leaned his head against the door to his apartment. No one was ever up at this time of night and he felt free to give in to his utter weariness. He closed his eyes and for just a second his mind tried to convince him that maybe it was all a dream and he'd open this door to see Hayley hurtling her little body towards him in order to jump into his arms. He stiffened and then jerked his head from the door and forcibly suppressed those thoughts. He made himself turn the key to his door, to the place he'd had ever since he'd lost them.

It was dark and silent inside and no one moved but him. It had been 2 years since their deaths and still every night he kept hoping, against all logic that today would be the day when he finally woke up from this nightmare. Michael told himself that his heart hadn't broken all over again. He turned on the lights and slowly removed his leather trench coat, his jacket, and then rolled up his sleeves. He wasn't at all hungry and he had no desire to go to bed yet despite his ever-present exhaustion.

His apartment was wide and spacious with sunlight streaming in during the day if Michael would ever be home to notice it. Bookshelves lined the walls, overflowing with well-worn volumes, many of which were piled and stacked around the room on tables and chairs. Michael's ancient copy of "The Fountainhead" sat open on the coffee table where he had left it yesterday. Michael sat down in the used, comfy chair and idly leafed through the pages. He couldn't remember what part he was up to and he couldn't find it in himself to care very much. He let his eyes wander around the room, glancing over his long unused guitar before he leaned back, rested his head against the chair and closed his eyes. His last thought before he drifted into uneasy slumber was that he had to visit one of the prison's upstate tomorrow; there was a potential recruit that Division was interested in up there.

Michael was exactly on time to his appointment in upstate New York early the next morning. He briefly watched the young woman he'd come to inspect, without her ever setting eyes upon him. He knew within a couple of minutes however, that he wouldn't let her within 10 miles of Division, ever. The cornucopia of curse words that left her lips over the course of only 5 minutes, and the complete absence of any higher thought or moral code, left Michael with a sour taste in his mouth that he refused to examine too closely when he thought about her qualification for Division. Sighing internally he turned away to walk back out of the prison.

He turned a corner onto another long hallway filled with cells when a slight figure careened at great speed directly into him. Michael's arms automatically moved to stop the girl from falling and he found himself pressed flush against someone for the first time since Lizzy died. He looked down a pair of dark, slightly mischievous, eyes were staring up into his own, out of a simply stunning face. Embarrassed, Michael released the young woman, who wore the same uniform as the rest of the inmates, but seemed oddly comfortable in it, as though it were a fashion choice and not a badge of shame.

"Moving straight to second base without even a single date," she teased and Michael started a bit, both at the gentle tone and at the fact that she appeared to be flirting with him.

He felt himself turning red, something that he was sure hadn't happened in many years. "I apologize," he said, a bit stiffly, before moving around her and continuing down the hallway.

"And he leaves me without even telling me his name," the girl called towards his departing back, her tone amused but still oddly gentle. Michael stiffened but turned to face her and saw that her eyes were as gentle as her voice, no hint of derision but that they held a curiosity and a … fondness almost, for lack of a better word that made Michael unexpectedly relax. "You're better off not knowing," he told her honestly and made to leave again, but something made him ask, "What's your name?"

She laughed at bit, but answered "Nikita."

Michael turned and made it all the way to the main prison gate but found himself there unable to leave. Something about the woman Nikita's dark eyes made him sigh internally but turn back to speak with the warden.

"Oh, Nikita," the man grinned lecherously, "nice piece of ass isn't she? Too bad she's scheduled for death by lethal injection in a couple of weeks."

Michael's instant flash of anger at the man's coarseness turned into a dropping sensation as if he'd fallen forty feet when he heard of Nikita's soon to be execution. No hint of his sudden fear showed on his face. He cleared his throat once. "Why?"

The Warden smirked a bit in triumph, "well, seems the little bitch killed a cop. Was high out of her mind when they found her and it fuckin' serves that little … " he trailed off unexpectedly when he looked up and caught the ice green eyes of the man before him. The Warden had seen the same look in the eyes of some of the most truly dangerous criminals in his prisons; that look which said this man could kill him without a second's hesitation if he was given enough provocation. He cleared the sudden lump in his throat noisily, "well, she's in the dining hall at the moment. If you want to take her off my hands I'll be more than happy to let you have her." And then he quickly left, wondering when government agents – for such had the young man claimed to be – had become so very frightening.

Michael lurked by the door to the mess hall, watching the women eating lunch, arguing with one another and in general just trying to forget the fact that they were confined to these narrow walls. Michael saw Nikita make her way up to collect her tray and food. She looked with dissatisfaction at the selection before her, passing over the sloppy joes, the ham sandwiches and the potatoes with huge chunks of bacon in them before she picked up two apples. The heavyset woman with an attitude behind the counter snapped, "Still too good for our food ain't ya?"

Nikita's voice was noticeably cool – as though she'd been over this many times before – as she answered, "Still haven't got anything vegetarian, do you?" before heading back to her seat. She was sitting by herself today with one of the books from the prison library opened before her. When one of the girl's at the next table tried to engage her in conversation she waved her book and smiled apologetically. Michael found himself striding across the room and sitting down in front of her before his mind caught up with him. His policy had never been to let potential recruits meet him before they were inside Division's walls, but he figured it was too late for that anyway.

Nikita looked up and she smiled when she saw him. "You again!"

Michael couldn't help but smile a bit at her. He rested his elbows on the table and asked, "What are you reading?"

She laughed again, a bit self-consciously. "You're probably expecting something all intellectual sounding and tough, but … "she held the cover up for him to read with a mischievous grin. It read _So You Want To Be Buddha, _and there was a picture of a fat, bald guy on the front.

Michael snorted before he could help himself and then felt mortified. Nikita saw the expression on his face and started laughing even harder. She peered up at him from under dark eyelashes, her black hair a halo around her pale face. "You're definitely ex-military," she said musingly. Michael started in surprise. "You're so very serious."

She watched his green eyes examining her very carefully. "And now you're trying to see what else you've given away. Don't worry. No one else around here notices anything. I'm very good at observing others." She went back to her book, giving Michael time to recover. Michael made up his mind then and there. The next time Nikita looked up he was gone.

_ I wish I knew that trick, _she thought to herself. She found it a bit odd, but she realized that she was going to miss the serious young man she'd only just met. _And he never even told me his name. _

Michael watched Nikita sleeping in one of the narrow beds Division issued to the Recruits. They'd brought her in last night, heavily sedated, and she hadn't regained consciousness yet. He had pulled up a chair besides her bed and watched her. She had tiny, delicate features, and beautiful, clear skin. Her hair was black and silky and Michael had to resist the temptation to reach out and touch it. She was slender and wiry, though she looked underfed from her stay in prison, with long, elegant hands. It was her lips though that drew Michael's eyes again and again; they were simply perfect.

_ She's physically flawless, _he thought, just as Nikita blinked open her eyes and glanced around in confusion.

Before Michael could even open his mouth to explain anything, her eyes had narrowed in anger and fear and she'd launched herself at him obviously prepared to inflict some damage. She got in one good punch due to Michael's sheer shock at her attack, but then Michael grabbed her and flipped her over, one arm around her waist and one pinning her arm above her head. She froze then, breathing heavily and lying on the floor with Michael's body on top of hers. They were so close in that moment, Michael realized, their noses only inches apart. He watched the flicker in her eyes as she finally recognized him, and then, unexpectedly, she relaxed just the tiniest bit. Her lips were parted, inches from his own, and Michael felt his eyes inexorably drawn to them. He wrenched his gaze back up to her eyes and saw that she was looking at his lips.

And then he was off her, reaching down to haul her up after him. They stood, several feet apart, just staring at each other and Michael realized that he felt alive, truly alive, as if he could breathe without it hurting for the first time in what felt like forever. "My name is Michael," he told her, "I work for the government and we've decided to give you a second chance … "

The Beginning


End file.
